


A knight in heavy armor

by Steena



Series: Maintaining peace [8]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Awkward Flirting, Bad Flirting, Humor, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, Tarn's awkward, Turmoil's a bastard, Voice Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-16
Updated: 2018-02-16
Packaged: 2019-03-19 10:04:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13702242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Steena/pseuds/Steena
Summary: After his little adventure with Sideswipe and Wildrider, Tarn gets a new obsession: Racecars. There's just one problem: the mech he wants is scared oil less when the Tank starts to flirt with him. Because being a turncoat, attracting attention from Tarn can never be good, right? And it doesn't really help that Tarn is about as awkward as they come when he's flirting. On the other servo, who could resist a knight in heavy armor, with a voice that is pure sin?





	A knight in heavy armor

If you asked him, he would probably blame Sideswipe and Wildrider. Maybe he was right, they might have opened his optics to hot running, high revving Racers. On the other hand, Tarn had always found the lighter frames of pretty little Jets and sleek Sports cars easy on the optics.

Now it had turned into something of an addiction. He seemed unable to stop  _staring_. And they were  _everywhere._  The Autobots sure had a thing for high performance altmodes. And no small amount of the Decepticons were also Racers.

He sneaked a few quick looks at Jazz, a simply gorgeous mech with a libido bordering on unhealthy. Sadly, for Tarn, he was also joined at the hip strut to Skywarp.

The components of Menasor seemed to be preoccupied with each other, as well as some of the Decepticon Jets. Wildrider and Sideswipe was a permanent thing and off limits. He'd just been a temporary addition for one night. Sideswipe's beautiful brother seemed as hostile as he was polished and Tarn couldn't help feeling like the golden twin was way out of his league.

The Tank tried to talk to Knock Out in the hallway, the Doctor staring at him as if he'd grown a second helm before wrapping himself around Ratchet who just exited the medbay. He kissed the Autobot heatedly enough to make Tarn look away in embarrassment, making a blatant show of a little PDA, clearly meant to say "we're already taken" in an obscene way. When Ratchet smashed Knock Out's back plates against the wall, the little Racer's engine revving wildly, Tarn chose to make a hasty retreat. He did _not_  need to see _that._

Gorgeous Paratrooper Crosshairs openly sneered at the Tank and took a detour to keep physical distance between them whenever he tried to make contact. That stung more than the thick-armored DJD leader wanted to admit even to himself. He seemed to be a pariah to most mechs. Maybe not all that strange, considering his reputation, but still dissparkening.

The beautiful Jolt, a traitor turned Autobot, had already found somebot special in Kaon, and they seemed made for each other, both frames able to withstand high currents.

The Autobot tactician,  _Prowl_ , was a surprisingly good match for Onslaught, the Combaticon commander happy to finally have a worthy opponent in every game he could come up with.

There was one particular mech, the prettiest one of them all, who was still single. If Sunstreaker was out of his league, this mech would be in the hall of fame. Tarn hardly dared to breathe close to him, let alone speak to him. He was beautiful. Strong. Agile. He was also a traitor. He was Deadlock.  _Former_ Deadlock, now going by the designation Drift. It was wrong. And yet, every time those blue optics turned even in his general direction, Tarn's spark almost stalled for a spin. He _wanted_  the Racer. 

It took weeks of sneaking around after the Autobot, learning his routines and his likes and dislikes, meeting him in the hallways by "pure chance" before he actually onlined his vocalizer. By then , the ex-Con had probably started to suspect that the sudden increase in Tarn-sightings wasn't just a fluke and had started to look a little oddly at the Tank.

"Hello." Tarn said, spark spinning so fast he was getting dizzy.

"Uhm, hi." Drift watched him warily, edging past him.

Tarn found himself vocalizer-tied. His well-known eloquence seemed to jump out the window, screaming and flailing, and left him a stuttering idiot. All the carefully thought out conversation-starters had gathered in a file, complete with a pirate avatar, and sailed off into the uncharted far reaches of his processor.

"So... eh... Do you like energon?"

"Yes." Drift said flatly. "Unlike all other Cybertronians. Now, if you'll excuse me I have to see Prime about a wallaby." The Racer transformed and peeled down the hallway at what was probably illegal speeds.

Tarn could've facepalmed.  _"Do you like energon?" Stupid..._  Of course he did! 

He scampered off like a beaten mutt and fled back to his quarters in the Decepticon base to regroup and come up with a new plan.  _Maybe_   _he should ask Onslaught for tactical advice?_

He didn't. It was embarrassing and awkward. Especially since he found the Combaticon commander with Prowl's digits buried in his valve. They were in the  _rec room_  of all places, thankfully with a tarp over them as they snuggled on the couch. Still, it was painfully obvious that they were indulging in some kind of public interface-kink.

_Everybot_  seemed to get Racecar-lovin' these days. Tarn turned on his heelstruts to return to his quarters to sulk.

The only way to acquire advice on this topic without embarrassing himself seemed to be the human internet. Guessing it couldn't get any worse, he started surfing for advice on how to catch somebot's interest.

 

 

*****

 

 

_Confidence_.

It was one of the keys, he found out. It didn't matter if it was fake bravado or not, as long as it sounded like you were completely in control.

That shouldn't be too hard. He just had to do and say things he didn't have to force forward, things he knew.

The other thing human males thought was a good thing to do when courting was to clearly display physical interest. Not that Tarn just wanted Deadl...  _Drift_  for his frame, not at all. But that seemed to be the norm when courting. Tell him that you wanted to fuck him. 

And  _touching._ Lots of touching. Showing that he had a hard time keeping his servos away.

He could do that.

Drift was standing by the energon dispenser in the hallway when he found him. Absorbed in his own processes, he clearly didn't notice Tarn coming around the corner. He was leaning against the wall and Tarn could hardly tear his optics from the fine aft in front of him. On the other servo...

He patted Drift's aft and gave it a squeeze, the Autobot squeaking and jumping around to face his molester. Tarn could have sworn he saw the Samurai's faceplates blanch and his EM field flared in alarm before he reeled it in.

"Tarn." Drift's voice quivered.

"Hello  _Drift."_ Tarnrumbled.

He put his servos against the wall, boxing the smaller mech in, and leaned closer to scent the mech.  _Good polish, hot metal and fine grease. Mhm._

Drift's plating clattered for a second before he clamped it close to his protoform.

"You know, you have a  _very_  nice looking frame." Tarn murmured.

He was careful not to let his ability seep into his voice. He wanted Drift to come willingly, without coercion, because he didn't want to just berth the mech. It would be so easy to try the things he'd experimented with when he was with Sideswipe and Wildrider. It would grant him quick results but would probably not be good for the long game. Tarn ran a servo down Drift's side, smoothing over hot plating and he felt his own valve go wet.

"I know that you...  _got around_  a lot before. And I would  _really_  like to have a taste of that."

Drift whimpered and a shiver wracked his frame.

"So this is it, then?" He whispered hoarsely.

" _Yes._  I have wanted you since long before we landed here." 

Granted, in a whole different way before the peace when he was still hunting Deadlock, the  _traitor_ , but it sounded good, Tarn decided. And it was the truth, only that now he didn't want to slowly dismantle the mech anymore.

"But-but what about he  _peace?_ Megatron don't care anymore!" Drift cried out, optics bright.

Tarn's servo stopped where it had slipped down to the ex-Con's thigh. He looked at Drift, really _looked_ at him. The mech wasn't aroused. He was  _terrified_.

He took a step back, putting some distance between them. Drift stared at him, optics too bright. Then he bolted.

Tarn exvented heavily. It seemed his plan had backfired for some reason. That was it. He needed help from somebody, because the human way clearly didn't work on Cybertronians.

 

 

*****

 

 

"Oh, no, you did  _not..._ " Sideswipe groaned and dragged a servo down his faceplates.

"What?" Tarn was confused by the Racer's clear dismay.

"One: you came on waay too strong, considering he was on  _your list_. Most of us are still not convinced that Megatron will be able to keep you on a leash. And two: you basically called him a pleasurebot." Wildrider counted off on his digits.

"Maybe _Drift_  could put a leash on him?" 

Sideswipe said cheekily, waggling his optical ridges. It earned him a glare from Wildrider.

"Well I... It's not like this is my area of expertise." Tarn scowled behind his mask, deciding to ignore Sideswipe's comment.

Wildrider looked a little nervous, afraid he'd ticked off the irritable Tank.

"No need to get your panties in a bunch. You came to the right place." Sideswipe said cheerily to defuse the situation.

"I heard that confidence is the most important thing." Tarn said, deciding to start there.

"Confidence is normally good, but you're _Tarn._  I don't think you have to show it off. As it is, you seem unreachable. A hint of insecurity would make you more like every other mech." Sideswipe said.

"I'm hardly that confident. I wouldn't be here if I didn't doubt my own skills." Tarn argued. "I constantly fight the feeling of inadequacy." He added in an almost whisper.

"You hide that well, then." Wildrider said, crossing his arms.

"Anyway, the most important thing now is that you  _woo_ him." Sideswipe said, ignoring Wildrider's comment.

"I what?"

"Woo him. Make him feel wanted, show him your appreciation.  _Charm_  him. You want him to be happy and giddy when he sees you. Make him hope that you'll show up." 

"Can't I just manipulate his spark to feel that until he gets used to it and start feeling like it by himself."

"No!!" Both racers shouted in unison, forcefully enough to make Tarn wince.

"Ok! I won't. But how do I do it then?"

Sideswipe grinned from audial to audial and rubbed his servos together.

"We'll teach you. Now, listen closely..."

 

 

*****

 

 

"Hello Drift. I... Uhm, I just wanted to apologise for scaring you lately. It was _not_ my intention. In hindsight, I can see why my behavior put you off so badly."

Drift opened and closed his intake several times without engaging his vocalizer.

"It's just, I get... I get nervous around you. Your beauty leave me vocalizer smacked. I'm truly sorry."

Drift stared at him and Tarn started worrying that he had something stuck on his mask, the way the Autobot looked at him. His spark was speeding up.  _Maybe this wasn't such a good idea._

"I... Apology accepted, I guess." Drift finally spoke, dragging the words out thoughtfully.

"That brings me great relief to hear. I look forward to seeing you again, on better terms."

He stretched out a servo, a human gesture Sideswipe had insisted would be a perfect peace offering to Drift since the mech was fascinated with human culture and genuinely liked the organics. Drift stared at the servo for long moments, and Tarn was starting to doubt he'd take it.

"I...uh...yeah." 

The Autobot finally took his servo, slowly and hesitantly, but he took it and Tarn could swear his spark migrated to his intakes for a second. Drift's grip was firm but not denting and his servo was warm. Blue optics didn't look away from the gleaming slits in his mask and Tarn got lost in the soft blue, still a little too bright with anxiety.

The Tank reluctantly retracted his servo, not without a soft slide of digits over the smaller mech's palm and with a quick offlining of one optic in what Sideswipe had described as a 'wink', the DJD leader took his leave with lazy steps to give the Samurai a good view of his power and surprising agility.

Rounding the corner he exvented harshly, his nerves getting the better of him.  _He_ so _needed a drink._

*****

 

 

It was troublesome, outright disturbing, at first, but Drift had no idea who to speak to. Optimus was out of the question; what Optimus knew, Megatron knew and then Tarn would be punished and wouldn't _that_ be asking for the wrath of the Tank? And the mech had apologized and been nothing but polite. Confusingly so, actually _complimenting_  Drift, and if that didn't throw him for a loop, nothing would.

After much thought, he found himself sitting on the floor in Ironhide's quarters, the Weapons specialist luckily absent but his favorite human sprawled on the berth.

"Drift, he's  _flirting_  with you."

"What?! No..."

"I'm telling you, he's coming on to you. The thing he did with his optics is a classic human flirty move, he's smoothtalking you and giving you compliments. If that isn't hitting on someone, I don't know what is." Mikaela said, exasperated by now.

"But I'm a traitor, that's never going to change in his optics. He  _hates_  Autobots, and many Decepticons too." Drift was frantically shaking his helm in denial.

"Must be awfully lonely, especially now with the peace and everybody finding someone special left, right and center. And a little birdie told me that he has gotten comfy with 'Sides and 'Rider. If he can hang out with them, I don't think he's  _that_  into the traitor-hatin' any more."

"So, what do I do now?"

"Depends. If you're not interested, don't lead him on. Tell him straight away. If you are interested, try to get to know him. I mean, the _real_ Tarn, behind the mask and the rumors and hearsay."

Drift rubbed his faceplates.  _Was he interested? Sure, the Tank was easy on the eyes in spite of the mask. But it wasn't the first time he'd fallen for a Warframe, and those memories... He didn't want to open that can of worms. And this was still_  Tarn.  _Physical attraction aside, could anything good possibly come out of this?_

"I'll think about it. Thanks for the advice."

"De nada. Don't feel pressured into anything. He seems polite enough, just ask him to slow down if you get overwhelmed. If that doesn't work, tell Optimus or Megatron."

Ironhide walked through the door that moment, and whatever Drift was about to say was aborted. The Weapons specialist stared back and forth between the Samurai and the human for a few seconds before he entered.

"Officer." Drift greeted him and got up to leave.

"Just take it in stride, Drift." Mikaela called after him as the door slid shut.

Drift stood outside the door for a while, indecisive. Mikaela's words echoed in his audials.

_"Take it in stride"?_ Babysteps. He'd take it in baby steps.

 

*****

 

 

It was slow progress, if progress at all. Tarn stumbled through numerous awkward interactions with the Autobot, feeling like he was constantly going even further out of his depths.

His advances wasn't rebuffed, but he couldn't exactly see Drift warming to him either, remaining a little aloof and cautious. It didn't help that Tarn got vocalizer tied every time he tried to have a conversation with the Samurai. At least the mech didn't teek terror every time the Tank got near him. And sometimes, he actually smiled at something Tarn said, and it made the DJD leader's engine hiccup every single time.

But even though it could be considered a small victory that they greeted each other easily and had conversations, awkward as they may be, Tarn saw no signs of the mech falling for him and that was discouraging. He was thinking about letting it all go.  _How stupid had he been to think a pretty Sports car would see anything in a Tank?_

So he decided to try to become a friendly acquaintance in the hopes of someday becoming a friend of the Autobot. Because it seemed Drift wasn't attracted to him at all.

That was his standpoint when he entered the rec room in the 'Con base, the first thing to catch his optics a Warbuild almost his own size with  _Drift_ draped across his lap, large servos stroking the smaller mech's sides, masked face nuzzling the Samurai's helm.

It could've made him jealous, not that long ago, it would've sent him into one of his rages. Now, he just felt his spark go cold, an itching, corrosive sensation filling the chamber as it dawned on him.

  
_Drift already had somebot._

That's why he wasn't interested, didn't see Tarn that way. The Tank couldn't avert his optics. He zoomed in on the pair, degaussing his field to not broadcast his emotions to the entire room.

"See anything you like?" The Warframe rumbled, a leer in his voice.

He was a 'Con. Utterly unashamed of public groping and Tarn bristled at the insolent smugness that laced the mech's vocals. He must believe he'd conquered one of Tarn's toys. The DJD leader could easily see himself dismantling this mech.  _If Megatron would just still allow that kind of behavior now and then. Special occasions._

There was something off about the picture, the more Tarn stared the more he saw it. Drift wasn't leaning into the mech, wasn't reciprocating the touches and he kept trying to glance back at Tarn. The Samurai's plating was slicked down against his protoform, not flared to allow access.

"Is everything ok in here?" He asked, aiming it for Drift. 

The Autobot twitched, almost imperceptibly, but it didn't evade Tarn's sharp gaze. Behind his mask, he narrowed his optics. Drift didn't say anything.

"Oh, everything is  _splendid._  We're just...  _catching up_. The rest of my crew has missed him almost as much as I did." The Warbuild said, curling thick digits around Drift's hip.

_So this was Turmoil. And the mechs surrounding the pair must be his crew, then._ He knew parts of the story; how Deadlock had been stationed with the other Tank until he bolted for unknown reasons just to show up as Drift among the Autobots. Turmoil's crew must be new to Earth, and the DJD leader understood why the ex-Con would be nervous to meet the crew he abandoned,  _the lover he'd jilted_ , but surely Megatron must've briefed them of the new rules. 

"We missed you a lot." One of the other 'Cons leered and leaned over the pair to run a servo over Drift's aft.

Tarnlooked at the smaller 'Bot's stiff frame for long seconds, but since he didn't speak up or move, the Tank turned to leave. He did not need to see this.

With a smooth stride, belying his size, Tarn stepped out the door, just to stop when a trembling voice he knew all too well was raised.

"I-I'm not ok, actually. Let go of me, Turmoil. I don't want this."

"Aaw, don't be like that, Deadlock. I know you used to like this." Turmoil mocked him.

"Do we have a problem here?" Tarn seethed behind his mask, but his voice was deceptively calm when he turned back to the small crowd.

"None of your fragging business. I'm just reclaiming what is rightfully mine. I want to...  _get to know him_ again." Turmoil snarled.

"I'm not your fucking possession, not your toy!" Drift griped.

"It is my business when you go against the directives Lord Megatron set for us. Haven't you heard about the new one? 'Freedom is the right of all sentient beings.'" In spite of his anger, Tarn was having fun. He was a master at build up and he hadn't been allowed to do something like this for too long.

"Isn't that the Prime's punchline?" Someone from the crew asked.

"Not anymore. Now that Prime and Megatron are co-leaders of both factions."  _Pause_   _for effect._  "I suggest you take your filthy servos off of Drift." He let his ability seep into his voice and his powerful EM field roll out over the room, broadcasting his hungry sadism and roiling anger.

The reaction was instantaneous. The mechs doubled over or toppled to the floor. Turmoil clutched his chestplates.

"There's a new order here on Earth, namely: you can't harm anyone, Decepticon or Autobot. And you are not allowed to touch someone unwilling.  _Especially_ not Drift _._ " Tarn enjoyed the way the mechs writhed in agony.

"Ack...who-who are you?" Turmoil managed to get out through the pained static in his vocalizer.

"I'm  _Tarn_." 

He basked in how their sparks flared with fear as they recognized his name. A cruel smile spread behind his mask. Then his optics caught Drift's, the mech still sitting on top of his ex-commander, unsure of what to do.

Tarn held out a servo for him and Drift scuttled over to him, foregoing the servo to press into his side.

"Let's go." Tarn said, trying to get some reassurance into his ability, something he had never done before.

"Oh." Drift moaned.

"Sorry, didn't mean to do  _that_  to you."

"Well, it felt...  _Good._ But I don't think we're quite there yet."

"Yet? As in, you haven't written me off completely?" Tarn's spark did a funny hiccup.

"No, I have not. I was just a little uncertain. Anyway, thank you for what you did back there. That was the main reason for my defection. They just couldn't take a 'no'." Drift almost whispered the last part.

"Oh, it was fun. And I will always listen to what you say. I find a willing partner much more appealing."  _Tarn had learned that with Sideswipe and Wildrider._

"So, your voice... you can use it for pleasure?" Drift's field was tinged with curious embarrassment.

"I could talk you to an overload if I wanted to." Tarn chuckled.

"So why didn't you just manipulate me into wanting you?"

"And what would you think of me when I stopped talking? I'm not in it just to get you into berth. And, as I said, I like a  _willing_ partner _._ "  _He had considered it, the bastard he was, but he wouldn't say that._

"But if I want you to _talk_ to me now?" Drift pressed closer.

"You mean you _want_ to be seduced by my ability? Want me to talk to you until you scream in ecstasy? Want to hear my voice as it caresses your very spark?" 

Drift mewled and his legs almost buckled. Tarn heard the Speedster's panel slide away and he cupped a servo over his array to offer some modesty.

"Maybe we shouldn't do this here, hm?" He whispered without his ability.

"Where's your room?" Drift asked dazedly, closing his panel after several attempts.

Tarn scooped him up and turned for his quarters with long strides. 

"This way." He murmured and enjoyed watching Drift writhe in his arms, his panel popping once again.

"Are you absolutely certain about this?" 

He asked without his ability, pausing outside his door. It just wouldn't do for the mech to get out of his pleasured haze and feel tricked. Granted, he was still under the lingering effects of Tarn's ability, but he should be coherent enough.

"Yes, yes, for Primus' sake  _yes!_  Take me, Tarn. Frag me!"

He didn't need to ask again. They were inside the room in less than a second and on the berth. Tarn hummed a wordless tune and picked at sensors and cables under Drift's plating, flared for easier access. Slim servos groped and touched him all over and Tarn groaned when Drift plucked at his treads. The Tank reached down to find Drift's valve dripping wet and he carefully slipped a digit inside, earning him bucking hips and a groan.

"Please stretch me well. I'm not into pain and I haven't taken a spike for a while." Drift panted.

"I'm more interested in this, actually." Tarn let his digit circle Drift's spike housing.

The Speedster lifted his helm to look at Tarn.

"Really?!"

"Yes." 

He could tell Drift about his malfunction another time. And Tarn had no objections to taking Drift's spike either. He was rewarded with the Speedster's spike pressurizing almost instantly and while he admired control in mechs, he found it a pity that the Samurai had been forced to learn to keep his spike depressurized even when he was aroused.

Tarn took a moment to admire the Speedster's spike, modified with pretty LEDs, before he straddled the smaller mech. He started humming again and the gasp leaving Drift's intake made him smirk victoriously behind his ever present mask. Tarn allowed his own plate to fold away, sliding back and forth a few times to rub his wet slit along Drift's spike, the slick slide over his anterior node making his hips jerk.

"Please, let me get inside you." Drift begged, hips pinned under the heavy Tank.

"With pleasure." Tarn rumbled and angled himself to slide down on Drift's lenght in one slide.

It was glorious, so much better than he could ever have imagined, because not only had he finally conquered the mech he thought unreachable, but he had the 'Bot  _begging_  for his pleasure. It was intoxicating, wildly more arousing than the traitors begging for mercy ever had been. Tarn was getting close, so very close, and he could feel in Drift's uncontrolled field that he was close too. When Tarn felt he couldn't hold himself back any longer, he leaned down, whispering in his lover's audial with all of his power lacing his voice.

"Overload for me."

Drift did. With a wail, he arched his flexible backstruts, bucking up into Tarn and filling him with his fluids, sending the Tank over the edge. He grabbed at Drift's shoulders to stabilize himself, leaving dents as he held on and rode the currents in his systems. When his processors started to shut down for a reboot, he managed to tip to the side to not crush the Autobot with his frame. Then he fell into sated oblivion, EM field laced with Drift's in a comfortable way.


End file.
